


And All the Men Merely Swimmers

by splashfree



Series: Seven Ages [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Dangerous Train-Riding Maneuvers, Established Relationship, Fluff and a Little Smuttiness, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Reunions, Rin Matsuoka Speaks English, Rin and Haru Run Around Tokyo Being Doofcakes, Two Years Later, guys being dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 13:23:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3210665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splashfree/pseuds/splashfree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Airports, Haru figures, are a lot like swimming pools."</p><p>Two years after they both graduate from Iwatobi High, Rin comes home for the holidays, and Haru picks him up at the airport.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And All the Men Merely Swimmers

**Author's Note:**

> ~~surprise, bitch, bet you thought you'd seen the last of me~~
> 
>  
> 
> ...And here I come crawling sheepishly back to fanfiction after more than a year of absence! ~~hello darkness, my old friend...~~
> 
> To everyone who sent me such sweet comments and encouragement, gave me kudos and continued to read my silly little fics, thank you so, so very much. You have kept me smiling for a whole year.<3
> 
> I'd like to humbly dedicate this fic to all the readers of "Be Free With Me," which I now know, in my heart of hearts, I will probably never finish. While I realize that this makes me super lame, I hope you all will enjoy some Rin/Haru fluffiness in recompense. I enjoyed writing it, anyway. 
> 
> My headcanon places this little episode two years into Rin and Haru's college careers. I hope you enjoy these doofcakes.

 

Airports, Haru figures, are a lot like swimming pools.

He knows, of course, that airports are mostly _not_ like swimming pools thanks to the depressing lack of water; but the atmosphere in the Arrivals Lobby is nearly identical to a swim meet’s: excited; impatient; mildly anxious and punctuated with small bursts of joy. Dulled by disappointment when the next person through the opaque, automatic doors is not worth watching.

There are a lot of people not worth watching.

Haru’s sigh sinks below the warm updraft of chatter around him, families and school groups and drivers holding neatly printed signs, all welcoming home their travelers for the New Year. He’s there for similar reasons, but even though the 15:45 flight from Sydney landed safely, that familiar mop of red hair has yet to make an appearance. Haru checks his phone. It’s been 16:14 for at least ten minutes.

His palm buzzes and the flip-phone is open before the first pulse ends, but it’s just a message from Makoto.

_< Did Rin get in okay?>_

Haru frowns, thumb sliding across the keypad. _< flight landed but he’s not out yet>_

A few moments, then another buzz.

_< I guess he’s still waiting for luggage?>_

_< maybe>_ Haru texts back, but it seems unlike Rin. It’s not like he’ll be home long enough to justify checking luggage anyway.

It’s been six months, one week and three days since Rin bundled off the airplane last June for summer prelims, peeling off his winter jacket and grumbling about the Southern Hemisphere. Just over half a year, so what’s a couple more minutes, right? Haru worries his thumb along the edge of his cell, tangles his fingers in his dolphin charm and tells himself he’s not anxious or nervous or irritated at all. Not even a little.

It’s 16:15.

Haru drops his head and shuts his eyes, figuring Rin will spot _him_ whenever he finally decides to show up. Haru could be back in Iwatobi with Makoto by now, hanging out with Nagisa and Rei and Gou and grilling mackerel in his own kitchen. And maybe, if he had known Rin would make him wait this long, he would be. But it was hard to argue with such a flat-out demand:

_< Nanase, pick me up from the airport. 30 Dec JAL 506 15:45 your time> _

_< i go home with makoto on the 29th>_

_< Fuck Haru, change it. Pick me up>_

_< why?>_

_< You need a reason?? Haha fuck you>_

_< just asking>_

_< You know why, dumbass. Pick me up.>_

_< fine.>  
<bring a coat. it’s winter here> _

_< Ha ha.>_

Haru chews his lip, trying not to smile and trying not to frown, trying to locate Rin in the mess of echoes and movement around him. He can visualize it easily – an endless, glorious swimming pool stretching out on all sides. He can outstrip the security barriers and faceless extras with no more than a few strong kicks. Then there – grin sharper than the radioactive green of reflected water – is a pair of familiar red eyes, a set of broad, muscled shoulders.

 _Come on,_ Haru says, and if he just reaches out his hand —

Haruka’s phone buzzes, his eyes snap open, and Rin Matsuoka slouches through the automatic doors.

Rin scans the crowd, cool blasé instantly evaporating as he finds him: “Haru!”

How is it possible, Haru wonders not for the first time, that one voice and two syllables can set his pulse racing faster than the silence before the buzzer? On the starting block, his heart is already in the water; any nerves are not so much performance anxiety as they are thirsting for reunion. Here, his heart seems to be everywhere at once, nerves sparking from his lungs to his fingers to the tips of his toes. It doesn’t seem possible that one person could be responsible for all that – but as Rin catches him in a quick, one-armed hug, Haru feels the impact, the submersion and yes – finally – he’s swimming again.

He’s home.

“Sorry it took so long,” says Rin. He’s got his baseball cap tugged down just above his eyebrows and he’s dressed like he flew here straight from the gym (which, knowing Rin, he probably did). His eyes are a little more tired, face a little more worn, but he stands more calmly and solidly than Haru’s ever seen him do – and that jagged smile hasn’t changed a whit. “The line for immigration was bullshit. I’ve never seen it that busy.”

“A few more minutes and I would’ve left you,” Haru mutters, hiding his smile as Rin kicks the back of his knee and calls him an asshole. Those are the first words they’ve exchanged face-to-face in over six months, and Haru wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

 

On the train-ride back to the city, Haruka listens and Rin talks about Sydney: about his school and his roommates and his classes, about swimming practices and talent scouts and the weird food he’s eaten and how the weather is just too freaking hot.

“—over thirty-five degrees! Fucking unbelievable. ’Course, that also means we get to swim outside,” he says with a grin. “Since it’s the middle of summer and all. Jealous?”

More than a little. “Not really,” Haru sniffs.

Rin nudges his knee with his own. “Liar.”

“Not.”

“Are too.”

Haru shrugs. “Believe what you want.”

“I will.” A spark ignites in Rin’s hungry eyes. “So? How’re your times?”

Haru tries to deadpan, but he can’t help the tiny smile creeping over his lips. “Still better than yours.”

They talk shit the rest of the way, challenge each other to five separate showdowns, and when the train pulls in at Shinjuku Station, they’re both grinning and ready to find a pool.

 

 

Of course, battling will have to wait until they reach Iwatobi, and that won’t be until later that night. First they’re headed for Haru’s place, and without a second thought, Haru starts weaving through the deluge of commuters saturating Tokyo’s busiest train station.

“What the— Hey, wait up! Hold up – Haru!”

Haru stops short as his hood digs into his neck, grabbed by an unexpectedly flustered Rin.

“What?"

“Nothing,” Rin blurts, dropping the hood sheepishly. “I just—” He shuffles aside, barely dodging a businesswoman before she runs him over. “Just—slow down.”

Haru can’t not tease a face like that. “Having trouble keeping up?” he says. “Need me to hold your hand?”

“Fuck yourself.” Rin slaps his offered palm away, grabs Haru’s hood again and dunks it over his head. Haruka laughs. “Fancy-ass city boy. Can you swim in water still, or is it all just train stations now?”

“You’ll never find out if you can’t even keep up here.”

“I’m keeping up,” Rin pouts, shifting his backpack straps moodily. “There’re just…a lot of people, okay? ‘Sides, I don’t know where we’re going, so I’m at a disadvantage.”

Haru smirks. “Never heard so many excuses before in my life.”

“Fuck you, Nanase.”

“We’re taking the Chuo Line. The orange signs. That make us even?”

“Fine. Yeah. Whatever.”

“I’ll still hold your hand, if you want. If you ask nicely.”

Rin tells him to go to hell and doesn’t ask Haru to slow down again, but he does pale a little when they get to the ticket gate and the indecipherable train line diagram. He remembers loudly that he hasn’t called Gou yet and tells Haru to get their tickets while he goes and does that.

He returns just as Haru pulls the tickets from the machine; apparently Gou didn’t pick up her phone. Haru tries not to grin too wide.

 

 

By the time they find the right platform, it’s well into rush hour and the trains belch and swallow commuters in an endless, clockwork cycle. Rin stiffens as wave after wave of passengers flow and break around them like surf over rocks. Haru sneaks his fingers to Rin’s wrist, squeezes.

“Welcome to Tokyo,” he mutters and Rin’s chuckle is a little choked.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

As soon as the last exiting passenger clears the threshold, they’re pushed forward into the train by the surge of people behind them. Rin is hissing like a punctured beach ball, and in a snap decision, Haru twists himself through the press of bodies until they’re nose-to-cheek. Red eyes dart down at him uneasily as the train continues to fill.

“Okay?” Haru mumbles and Rin nods. They’re pressed so close that Haru can feel him swallow, knuckles shifting on the handle above him. The station attendant shouts an all clear; the doors chime, swish shut; and after a moment of silence the train slides into motion.

There’s not much to do on a full, rush-hour train, Haru has discovered, except stand still, avoid eye contact and wait for the ordeal to be over. Rin seems to be embracing this creed wholeheartedly, his eyes glued to the ceiling as though in supplication, his breathing a little too measured to be calm.

“After a couple stops,” Haru murmurs against Rin’s cheek, “it clears out a bit.”

“Cool.” Rin swallows again, staring determinedly up. “You ride this kinda thing every day?”

“Not usually. Sometimes.”

“’S fucking crazy.”

Haru nods just as the train lurches, and while there’s not even room enough to fall, he reflexively grabs Rin’s jacket.

“You okay?”

“Sorry,” Haru says, but doesn’t let go. Rin smirks weakly, shifting his gaze to the train windows and the dark cityscape zipping by. Haru does the same over Rin’s shoulder, barely catching the glimmer of illuminated trees before the train wobbles again and Haru sways into Rin’s neck.

Light sweat and deodorant; faint chlorine and summer dusk. June at the beach, the heady smell of ocean water and the cold sluice of ice cream against warm lips—

Haru swallows, looks pointedly away, and tries to think about anything else.

He literally can’t.

Just as Haru manages to start running drill combinations in his head, Rin speaks – says something in English so fast and fluent that Haru can’t even begin to piece it together. It throws him for such a loop that he stares, feeling a blush burn slowly across his cheeks.

“Right?” Rin’s smile is crooked with mischief.

Haru looks away again quickly, mumbling something about this being Japan, so Rin needs to speak the damn national language if he wants to be understood. Rin’s laugh vibrates in Haru’s chest and he apologizes – “Sorry, I’m so sorry, Mister Nanase” – in English.

“Showoff,” Haru mutters, ears and neck flaming.

The train shudders again. “You like it.”

He’s right; he does.

 

 

It’s 18:34 by the time they finally arrive at Haru’s place, a one-room apartment on the outskirts of Tokyo. As soon as they’re in, Rin shrugs off his bag and removes his cap.

“Huh,” he says, surveying the small room – the futon, the bookshelf, the monitor-sized television and neat kitchenette. “Nice. Better than your first one.”

“I think so,” Haru says, heeling out of his shoes. “Bath’s nicer.”

Rin snorts. “Then it’s definitely better,” he says, sliding open the bathroom door just to check. “Too bad Makoto’s not right next door anymore, though.”

“Yeah,” says Haru. “But he says he likes his new place better too. It’s on a better line for Chiba. And I see him every day at school anyway.” He grabs his backpack, packed and sitting at the end of his futon; he meant to bring it with him to meet Rin but completely forgot. “Let’s go. Sorry to make you come all the way out – ”

“Haru.”

Haru stops before he collides with Rin, who’s taken two steps into the small room, shoes still on. They’re close again – really close – and this time Haru can’t stop himself. He drops his backpack with a thunk, buries his face against Rin’s neck and just breathes.

Six months.

Now Haru can remember every minute of it, every second without Rin, every evening he came home to an empty apartment with a cell phone full of messages. It’s an exhausted ache – as visceral as any aftermath from practice – and Haru tightens his arms, anchoring him here.

“Missed you,” Rin mumbles into Haru’s shoulder. “All the damn time.”

Haru just nods because if words in general can be difficult for him, these kinds of words are nearly impossible.

He isn’t sure how long they stand there wrapped around each other, but Rin is the first one to shift back, his eyes dark. Appraising. Haru blinks back at him for one suspended moment, in which uncertainty patters down like rain on six long months of separation.

Is this still what it was? Does Rin still – ?

Stupid question, Haru realizes, as soon as he thinks it. As soon as their noses brush and their mouths finally meet.

It comes back in muscle memory, how their lips fit together and how they don’t and how Haru’s breath catches when Rin bites. They kiss in Haru’s small apartment, slowly, easily, as though June were just yesterday, and Haru just finished waylaying Rin for one more second against the hotel door. But in truth, they only have a handful of days to make up for half a year. Their gentle exchange shifts, turn by turn, until Haru is shucking Rin’s jacket, his own heels hitting the wall.

Rin touches Haru as though to catalogue him – confirming fingers and wrists and arms, neck and chest, waist and stomach and hipbones. He grabs Haru’s ass, pushes his thigh between his legs, and Haru grinds down hard, groan lost in Rin’s mouth.

“Fuck this,” Rin snarls breathlessly, blindly unbuttoning Haru’s jeans and shoving a hand between them.

“Hngh – !” Haru gasps, bucks into Rin’s hand.

“Hold on a sec.” Haru watches as he spits twice in his palm, shudders as Rin wraps his fingers around his cock and starts to pump.

They have a train to catch, Haru’s distantly aware.

They might have to miss it.

 

 

Rin slides to the ground beside him, moan shaky and thoroughly spent. His lips are swollen and nearly the same shade as his hair, which is fluffed up in a decadent mess. Haru wipes come off his own mouth with his sleeve, making a sound halfway between a sigh and a giggle. Rin blinks, catches his eye – and then they’re laughing uncontrollably, sweaty, boneless, and covered in semen.

“So that happened,” says Rin, wiping his eyes, grin achingly wide. “You still remember some things, I see.”

“You’re hard to forget,” Haru says, saying the words before he can overthink them.

Rin chuckles and reaches out with a grunt. “C’mere.”

Haru lets Rin drag him by the hoodie till they’re slumped together in a sticky, satisfied pile.

"Missed you." Rin's voice is warm and muzzy against Haru's hair. Haru closes his eyes.

"Missed you too."

The warmth of Rin's solid shoulder beneath his ear is enough to tempt Haruka into sleep, but as wonderful as that sounds –

“Our train.”

Rin barks with laughter. “Oh shit. When is it?”

“Seven forty-five.”

“Fuck. Can we make it?”

“What time is it now?”

“Fucked if I know.”

Haru groans as he fumbles his phone out of his back pocket. 19:05.

“We have to leave in ten minutes.”

“Fuck!” Rin laughs loose and clear. “Let me shower with you then.”

Haru fixes him with a deadpan stare. “That’s presumptuous, Matsuoka.”

Rin’s smirk is salacious. “C’mon, I’ll buy you dinner.”

“Liar.”

“Am not.”

“You still owe me from prelims. You said you’d buy me lunch but you didn’t. I can’t trust you anymore.”

“Trust me.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I’m in love,” Rin’s eyes are so lit and so alive that for a moment Haru forgets there’s anything else.

“W-what does that have to do with anything?” he mutters, feeling his cheeks warm.

“With this really hot, world-famous swimmer who I’ve been crazy about for ages but haven’t seen in fucking forever.”

“Sounds kind of like that guy who kicked your ass at prelims.”

“Shut the fuck up Haru, I’m talking about my boyfriend.”

“Sorry.” Haru tries not to smile, but it’s hard. “Continue.”

“He’s fucking hot,” Rin reprises, “and a genius swimmer and gives great head and totally did _not_ kick my ass at prelims, actually, ‘cause it was a relay and he had a two second lead and we practically tied anyway – ”

“But didn’t.”

“—and even though he’s kind of a dick,” Rin continues with a glare as Haru chuckles, “he’s pretty much the best but lives too fucking far away from me which is the worst. And the whole time I’ve been away, I’ve wanted to ask him something really, really important, but couldn’t ever find a way to say it over text.”

“Yeah?” says Haru, feeling a little breathless despite himself. “And what’s that?”

Rin stares him straight in the eye. “Will you,” he switches to slow, careful English, “let me take a showers with you, Mister Nanase? I have miss seeing you naked.”

Haru’s stomach flips, a blush searing across his ears and cheeks as he mutters, again, something about Rin speaking Japanese or just shutting the hell up already and Rin just laughs and kisses him quiet.

They stumble out of the bathroom at 19:18; are mostly dressed by 19:20; and are literally sprinting out the door at 19:23 – last one to the station loses.

 

 

Haruka loses.

But having the winning edge on the terrain, he leads the way to their platform, barely prevents Rin from boarding the wrong train and gets them to Tokyo Station with five minutes to spare. They bolt for the shinkansen platform side by side, trying not to grin so hard as they dodge commuters and get shouted at by station attendants.

The final chime is ringing just as they reach the top of the stairs. Haru grabs Rin’s wrist and dives into the train, doors nearly slamming shut on Rin’s jacket. For a breathless moment, they stare at each other in disbelief – then gasp out all the air they didn’t breathe and double over in laughter.

Haruka finds their seats and they bundle their backpacks onto the overhead shelf. It takes four hours to get to Iwatobi by bullet train, and during that time Rin will buy two overpriced bento boxes from the refreshments cart; Haru will win seven of thirteen rounds of rock-paper-scissors; and they both will bet lunch on whether or not Nagisa is taller than Haruka by now. Rin will fall asleep on Haru’s shoulder, and Haru will pretend to watch the dark countryside as he tracks the rise and fall of Rin’s breath. Haru will also remember a text message he hasn’t opened yet, the one he received back at the airport – what seems like an age ago. It’s from Makoto, with an attachment. A photo.

Haru’s smile spills slowly across his mouth as he studies the group selfie: Makoto’s smiling eyes, Gou’s peace-sign, Nagisa’s puffed-out cheeks and Rei’s reflected lenses.

_< Well, whenever he gets there, you two travel home safe! We’ll be waiting for you!>_

Haru is suddenly overwhelmed with thankfulness. For making time, for his friends back home, for the person passed out cold on his shoulder beside him. For the train they almost missed, jetting effortlessly over the land and chasing their destination.

Maybe he was wrong before, Haru considers. Maybe airports aren’t like swimming pools after all.

Maybe the whole world is a pool.

He smiles. It’s a nice thought, anyway.

He works his expression back to neutral for the photo he sends back: Rin drooling on his shoulder, his own barely raised eyebrows. _< on the train>_ he types.

Haru snaps his phone shut and smiles faintly out the window. Rin snuffles, shifts slightly, but continues to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! ^^ And please feel free to drop me comment if you feel so inspired~
> 
>  
> 
> ~~there also may or may not be a part two to this in the works, but i know better by now than to make promises....~~


End file.
